


Grudge Match

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Battle of the Century, the one you've all been waiting for...Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grudge Match

Grudge Match

 

Damian bounced as he was knocked hard to the floor of the cave.  Rolling backwards, he avoided the kick that was aimed at his stomach, which was intended to knock the wind from him.  The boy smirked as he rolled into a fighting crouch and wiped at the trickle of blood that had just started to leak from his nose.  He looked at the line of red staining the back of his hand and chuckled.

Damian said with a smirk, “Now you’re really going to get it.”

“Do you think you can?  Come on, I thought you said you were going to, and I quote, ‘teach me a lesson I’d never forget’.”

Tim resumed his fighting stance as Damian hopped a step forward, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.  “You know, I’ve made the mistake of misjudging you twice, Drake.  There won’t be a third time.”

Tim snorted, “I hope not, I’m starting to get bored over here.”

_Well, we can’t have that,_ Damian thought as he read his brother’s fighting stance.  _Let’s see how he deals with this._

Damian shifted his body, switching to a southpaw stance.  In the second of confusion that slight move brought to Tim’s face, Damian struck.  He threw several punches to Tim’s strong side, which were all blocked expertly.  Damian expected them to be blocked; in fact, he was counting on it.  The boy sent a feint to follow up his series of attacks.  When Tim moved to block the feint, Damian quickly pulled it back, switched back to a right-dominant stance, and sent a hard shot to Tim’s ribs.  A swift inhalation on the older man’s part was the only sign of distress Tim allowed to show, even though the hit hurt.

Damian spent the next forty-five seconds constantly changing stances and styles, pressing his new advantage.  He landed ten more blows to the older man’s ribs and stomach.  Tim was thoroughly out of breath when he found he had been driven back into a corner.  Before he could react, a swift kick to the shin sent Tim painfully to one knee.  That was followed by a hard punch to the side of the head that sent Tim to the floor, dazed.

Strong arms snatched Damian roughly up and away from the fallen Tim, as the twenty year old moaned from the ground.  The boy was carried bodily from the room and dropped unceremoniously onto a bench in the locker room.  Damian looked up into Bruce’s infuriated gaze and swallowed roughly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  Bruce’s voice was low and menacing as he loomed over the boy.

Damian felt like he was shrinking as he opened his mouth to reply.  Bruce interrupted, “No.  I don’t want to hear it, because there is no good explanation for what I just saw.  You know you could have killed him?  With your dual training, from me and from the League, you could have easily killed him.  Damn it, Damian, what is it with you and Tim?  You two were doing so well.  I thought you two liked each other?  That is your brother you just laid out in that room.  Brothers don’t do that to each other.”

Damian opened his mouth to respond again, but Bruce turned away and stalked back several steps.  “I just don’t get it, Damian.  I understand that you’ve had a rough last couple weeks.  It’s okay to blow off some steam every now and then.  That’s why I’ve invested so heavily in practice dummies.  Tim is not a practice dummy!  Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Am I finally allowed to speak now?”

Bruce whirled around at the attitude in Damian’s remark, but saw a potentially bigger problem.  “Tim!  No, don’t!”

Tim was staggering into the locker room, approaching behind the seated Damian.  He had both hands held out in front of him, like he intended to throttle the seated boy.  Bruce took a step forward to stop further aggression, but Tim reached the boy first.

The hands that were in a perfect strangling position came to settle on Damian’s shoulders with a reassuring squeeze.  Tim shook his head, like he was still dazed from the last blow, as he sat down next to Damian on the bench and leaned against his brother.

“That last one still hurt, but thanks for pulling your punch on the last shot.”

“Are you okay,” Damian asked.

Tim shrugged lightly, “Eh, you just rang my bell a bit.  How did you do that?  It was like trying to fight two people in there.  I wasn’t expecting that.”

A small smile crossed Damian’s face, “That’s the idea.  You don’t need super speed or super strength to overwhelm your opponents.  If you keep them more focused on trying to guess your next move and trying to defend against what they think you’re going to do, instead of what you’re actually doing, then you stand a better chance of being the one still standing at the end of the fight.  Never let your opponent control a battle.  Didn’t he ever teach you that?”  Damian nodded at Bruce as the man approached slowly.

Tim shook his head, “I never thought I had so much to learn about what we do.”

Damian turned to look at Tim, “You really don’t.  You just need to learn to change the way you think about what you already know.  I’m not any better or worse at this than you are.  I just have a few more ways at my disposal for how to think about certain situations.  I guarantee that there are many things you can teach me, this just happens to be something I’ve been doing since before I could walk.”

Bruce was thoroughly confused as he placed a hand on both of his son’s shoulders.  “You two aren’t trying to kill each other?”  Both boys shook their heads.  “Then would you mind explaining what’s going on here?”

Tim and Damian stared at each other for a second before Tim said, “It’s a long story, Bruce.”

_One Week Earlier…_

“What do you mean, I can’t go?”

Damian followed his father into the man’s bedroom, holding the tuxedo he had been preparing to put on.

“I mean just what I said, Damian.  You can’t go to the party tonight.”

Damian stared, unbelieving, as Bruce began assembling his own formalwear.  He said softly, “What did I do wrong, Father?  I’ve been following all of your rules, even the ones I don’t agree with.  I’ve not missed a day of work.  I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.  Why can’t I go?”

Bruce smiled secretly at the hint of a whine in his son’s voice.  He sat on the edge of his bed and beckoned Damian over.  Damian drew closer as Bruce asked softly, “Why do you want to go so bad?”  Bruce knew the answer to his question, but he wanted to see if Damian would say it.

“It’s a society party, Father.  All of Gotham’s upper class will be there.  Isn’t it expected for me to make an appearance?” Bruce lifted an eyebrow at his son, a slight smirk crossing the older man’s face.  Damian sighed, defeated, “I want to see Robin.  I miss her.”

Bruce placed his hands on Damian’s shoulders, “You just saw her last weekend…”

“…And that’s the only time I’ve seen her this month,” Damian interrupted.  “I…”

Damian trailed off as color rose in his cheeks.  Bruce’s smile broadened as Damian looked at his feet.  “What is it, son?”

Damian mumbled, “Pennyworth has been…teaching me to dance.  I…I wanted to try it out.”

Bruce lifted Damian’s chin, so he could look into his son’s eyes.  “I completely understand wanting to spend time with someone you love, and I’m sorry you and Robin can’t spend more time together.  I can see how hard it’s been for you.”

“So…can I go,” Damian asked with a hopeful smile.

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Father.  This isn’t fair.”

The smile started to slip from Bruce’s face.  “Since when is life fair?”

“Sorry, Father,” Damian said contritely, his head bowing again, “I just want to see her.”

“I understand that, son.  The Fourth of July party is in two weeks, and it will be here.  Depending on your behavior over the next two weeks, you can spend the entire party with Robin then.”

“Why can’t I go tonight, Father?”

Bruce smirked, “Because you weren’t invited.”

Damian looked stunned.  He had assumed his exclusion was Bruce’s doing.  He didn’t quite know where to go with this new bit of information.  “What?”

Bruce nodded as he resumed dressing, “If it makes you feel better, Tim wasn’t invited, either.  The Von Monroe’s made their invitation very explicit; no one under the age of twenty-one will be allowed into the party.  That means…”

Damian interrupted, with a smile growing on his face, “That means Robin won’t be there, either.  Father, I retract my request to attend the party tonight.”

“I thought you might,” Bruce chuckled.  “Go hang up your tux before it gets wrinkled.”

“Yes, Father,” Damian left the room with the garment in tow.

When Damian returned to the room, what appeared to be a wrestling match was taking place.  Bruce and Dick seemed to be holding Jason in place while trying to strangle him.  What was actually happening was the two older men were trying to tie the bow tie around Jason’s neck.

Bruce said, “You really forgot how to tie one of these?  Alfred never used to have to help you with yours.”

Jason grumbled, “I _had_ to learn to tie my own.  Alfred always spent so much time getting yours and Dick’s right, he never had time to do mine.  Besides, Red Hood doesn’t keep a bow tie as part of his uniform.  Why do I have to go to this thing again?  What good will it do for me to go?”

“Your name was specifically on the invitation,” Bruce said, “I told you this would happen once people found out you were alive.”

“If I remember correctly, the Von Monroe’s don’t like me.  Why would they invite me?”

Dick leaned over to examine the mess Bruce had made of the tie.  “He’s not kidding, Bruce.  If you remember, Jason is the reason they started putting an age restriction on their parties.”

A warm smile crossed Jason’s face as Damian spoke from the door, “Something I can be thankful to you for, then, Todd.”

Bruce looked at his youngest and said, “Five minutes ago, you were begging me to go tonight.”

“That was before I knew I wasn’t invited.”

Dick snorted, “More like before you knew _Robin_ wasn’t invited.”

Damian blushed as Jason said, “Wait, I don’t get to meet the Girl Wonder tonight?  Why am I going, then?”

Alfred pushed Bruce out of the way and tied the bow tie in a matter of seconds.  Bruce smiled and said, “You’re invited because the Von Monroe’s granddaughter is a couple years younger than you, and they are hoping that one of my heirs will marry theirs.”

Jason looked mildly interested, “A high society booty call?  I can get behind that.  Wait, how does she look?”

Alfred grabbed Jason’s chin to look the younger man in the eye.  “I will be quite upset if tomorrow’s society pages report any unsavory behavior on your behalf.  High society has a long memory.  I am sure there will be many older patrons who will be watching your behavior for any incidents like your last foray into a society party.”

Damian looked curious, “What did he do?”

Bruce and Dick looked at each other, wondering if it was safe to tell the boy.  Bruce finally shrugged and said, “Your brother took it upon himself to push the limits of what’s acceptable when at a party with little supervision.  He proceeded to get drunk, grope the daughter of Joan and Wilbur Schmidt, while calling them ‘Lord and Lady Douchebag’, then pass out while playing craps with the waiters in the kitchen.”

Damian was smiling widely as Jason winked at him and said, “I think you just gave him a whole host of ideas, Bruce.”

Damian shook his head and said, “I don’t like alcohol, Todd.”

Bruce chimed in, “Besides, he knows if he tried anything, he would never see his girlfriend again.  Anything, Damian, including trying to sneak her off to somewhere dark and private again without permission.”

Damian smirked, “So, you would rather we just kiss each other in front of everyone?”

Bruce looked like he was weighing the pros and cons.  He finally replied, “That depends on how…involved…you get.”

Alfred cleared his throat and said, “The hour approaches, gentlemen.  You don’t want to be late.”

Dick and Jason walked out of Bruce’s bedroom, followed by Alfred.  Damian turned to leave as well, but was stopped by Bruce’s hand on his shoulder.  There was an apprehensive look on Bruce’s face, and Damian asked, “What, Father?”

Bruce swallowed before saying, “Personally, I’d rather you came with tonight, so I could keep an eye on you, but that’s not an option tonight.”

Bruce led the boy down the stairs while Damian said, “Father, I am capable of spending the evening alone without getting in trouble.  Besides, if I understood the gist of the conversation, you are leaving Pennyworth here to watch me.  You did take me to the art store yesterday.  I think I can find something with which to amuse myself tonight.”

Bruce led Damian down a hallway and into the den.  “That’s not what I meant, and you won’t have the time.  Tim!”

Tim popped his head up to peer over the back of the couch he had been laying on, reading a book.  Damian started in surprise; he hadn’t known his third brother was at home.

“Hi, Bruce, Damian.”

Bruce led Damian around the couch and sat him next to Tim.  Bruce stared at both of them for a minute before saying, “I must be out of my mind for trying this again, but you two are patrolling together tonight.”

Tim and Damian’s eyes both widened at what Bruce had said.  Tim replied, “Bruce, are you sure you want that?”

“Yes, Father.  It hasn’t turned out so well when we’ve patrolled together in the past.”

Bruce sighed, “It hasn’t been that bad.”

“Father, the first time you sent us out, Drake moved across the country to get away from me.”

Tim picked up the speech.  “The second time, we ended up working for Two Face, and Damian almost died.”

Bruce looked a bit helpless when confronted with the facts.  “I understand all of that, but I would hope those experiences would help the two of you work better together.”

“I’m not worried about working together, Bruce.  We can do that.”

“Speak for yourself, Drake.”

Bruce was surprised by the outburst.  “You don’t think you can work successfully with your brother, Damian?”

Damian whispered, “I don’t want to screw anything up, Father.”

Bruce nodded sagely, “With that in mind, you won’t.  Just do a standard patrol.  Listen to each other, be careful, and be home by one.”

Damian looked pale as he looked at Tim and nodded.  “Yes, Father.”

Tim shrugged, “We’ll do our best, Bruce.”

“Good.  I have to go.  Standard patrol precautions apply, boys.  Don’t be late getting home, and report in hourly.  Don’t be late, or Alfred will call me.  You know he will.  Every hour, like always.”

The boys nodded as Bruce walked out of the room.  Bruce looked back at the two, still sitting on the couch, and said from the door, “You’ll be fine, boys.  I trust you.”

Bruce walked into the entryway and dug into his pocket.  He pulled out forty dollars and handed twenty each to Dick and Alfred.  Feeling left out, Jason asked, “Hey, what’s that all about?  If anyone should be paid for tonight, it’s me.”

Bruce smirked, “You and I didn’t have a bet on tonight.”

“Which one did I win,” Dick asked.

“Damian cared more about screwing up than working with Tim.”

“Told you,” Dick smiled.

“What about Alfred,” Jason asked.

“Tim was the first one to ask if I was crazy for sending them out together.”

“Well,” Jason asked, “Any bets on the outcome of tonight?”

Dick held up his twenty and said, “I think they’ll be just fine.  Any takers?”

Bruce slowly pulled another twenty from his pocket and sighed before saying, “You’re on.”

“Betting against your own sons, Master Bruce?”

“Unfortunately, I have history on my side.  Let’s go.”

_Later That Night…_

“How many times do I have to say it, Jason?  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know the Schmidt’s were going to be there.”

Jason barged into the manor ahead of Bruce, turned around in the foyer and said, “I don’t care that Lord and Lady Douchebag were there.  I care that their horse-faced daughter felt no shame in copping a feel the second we walked in the door.  Try that in my neighborhood, I’ll put one right between her eyes.”

Dick was trying not to laugh as Bruce looked around the entryway.  Bruce said, “Well, the house is quiet.”

Dick asked, “No Alfred?”

“He’s probably still downstairs, waiting on the boys.  I told them to be home by one, and it’s only twelve-fifteen.”

Dick smirked, “You want to go change first, or do you want to see if you lost another bet?”

Bruce thought for a second, then said, “Change first.  If I win, Alfred will be very upset if we get blood on formal wear.”

Ten minutes later, the elder Bats entered the cave, confused when they couldn’t find anyone in sight.

“Car’s here,” Bruce said, “Did either of you check their rooms, make sure they aren’t up there, asleep?”

Dick gasped and grabbed Bruce’s shoulder.  Pointing with a shaky hand, a few feet from the Batmobile, Dick said, “Look, blood.”

They followed a droplet path from the Batmobile to the medical wing.  Several steps from the door, Bruce held his elder sons up as they stopped and listened.

“Pennyworth, can you fix this?”

“Calm yourself, Master Damian.  It’s simply a flesh wound.  A couple stitches, and Master Timothy will be perfectly alright again.”

“You can relax, Damian.  You heard him, I’m going to be just fine.”

“This is all my fault,” the boy mumbled.

“Hey, we talked about this.  This is not your fault.”

“It _is_ my fault.  If I’d just listened to you, moved when you said move…”

“…Then you would have been the one to get shot, and we couldn’t let that happen,” Tim interrupted.

_Shot?_   Bruce’s eyes widened at the word, and he ran into the medical bay, Dick and Jason hot on his heels.

“What do you mean, shot?  Who got shot?”

Tim waved from the exam table, where he lay on his stomach while Alfred was bandaging his leg.  “Hi, everyone.  Did you…um…enjoy the party?”

“Tim?” Bruce asked, his voice shaking.

Tim sighed and laid his chin on his hands.  “It’s okay.  It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Turning, Bruce said, “Alfred?”

The butler finished wrapping the wound and reported, “A clean wound, Master Bruce.  Through and through to the calf.  He will be sore for a few days, but there will be no permanent damage.”

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked.

Tim said, “Yeah.  Didn’t you hear Alfred?  I’m going to be fine.”

“Good.  Are you alright?”  Bruce turned to Damian, who was pacing back and forth at the back of the medical bay, his hands clenched tightly under his arms to keep them from shaking.  The boy didn’t respond, too wrapped up in his own thoughts of guilt to even hear the question aimed at him.

“Damian?”

The boy still didn’t answer.  Instead, he paced back and forth, muttering, “It’s all my fault.  It’s all my fault.”

On his next trip past, Bruce grabbed hold of Damian’s shoulders and gently shook the boy to get his attention.  Damian finally seemed to see Bruce, and flinched hard when he looked up into his father’s concerned face.  Bruce reached up, which caused another flinch, and gently peeled the Robin mask from his son’s face.  Damian’s eyes returned to the floor and he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Father.  This is all my fault.”

Tim spoke up from the table.  “We talked about this, Damian.  This is not your fault, and even if it were your fault, it’s also your fault that I got back here alive at all.”

Bruce looked back at Tim before Tim held up a hand and said, “We’ll explain everything, Bruce, but I would like to get cleaned up and changed first.”

Bruce nodded and led Damian out of the medical bay and into the locker room.  Damian just stood there, staring at his feet.  Bruce let him go for a minute before he realized that Damian wasn’t going to be able to do this on his own.  Bruce took a deep breath before reaching out and slowly stripping off one of the boy’s gloves.

He gasped as the glove revealed Damian’s hand.  “Damian, what happened to your arm?”

Damian shrugged as Bruce turned the limb over in his hands and looked at several new bruises to Damian’s forearm.  Tugging off Damian’s other glove, Bruce found a matching set of bruises on Damian’s other arm, traveling up and under his sleeves.  Being mindful not to aggravate any injuries, and remembering that there may be some bad memories associated with an adult undressing him, Bruce kept eye contact with Damian while he removed the boy’s utility belt and gently peeled his tunic from his body.

It pained Bruce to see the panoply of bruises forming on his son’s chest and arms.  He slowly turned Damian and viewed another set of bruises on Damian’s back.  “Oh, son.  What happened?”

“We had a fight,” Damian mumbled.

“You and Tim were fighting?”

Damian shook his head.

“You and Tim fought someone else?”

A nod answered his question.

“Do you have any more bruises?”

Damian shrugged and stood for a minute, staring at the floor, before slowly dropping his pants and allowing Bruce to check his legs for injuries.  There were a couple new bruises, but nothing like those on his upper body.

Bruce heaved a heavy sigh before standing up and patting Damian on the shoulder gently.  “Why don’t you take a shower and meet us at the computer, so we can go over what happened tonight.  I’m sure Tim will be in in a minute.  Actually,” Bruce reconsidered, “Alfred probably won’t let Tim anywhere near water, not with fresh stitches.  He’ll probably just sponge him off and let him go.”

Damian walked towards the stall, but stopped and called out to his Father just before the man left the locker room.  “Wait for me, Father?”

“Sure, son,” Bruce said with a soft smile, returning to the bench and sitting down.

Several minutes later, Bruce and Damian walked out to the computer, where Tim, Dick, and Jason were sitting.  Tim was still settling into his seat when Bruce and Damian sat down.  Damian didn’t stray too far from Bruce, but furtively glanced at Tim often.

Alfred said, “Master Timothy, you really should keep that leg elevated.”

“Oh, yeah.  Thanks Alfred.”  Tim looked around for something to prop his leg up on, but Dick beat him to it, scooting his chair closer and gently setting his brother’s leg on his knee.  “Thanks, Dick,” Tim said softly.

“Can I get anyone anything else,” Alfred asked.

Bruce looked up and replied, “Yeah, can you get the bruise cream?  We need some here.”

Alfred looked at Damian, who was currently staring at his lap, then back at Bruce.  “Of course, sir.”

Bruce looked at his boys as Alfred walked away.  “Okay, tell me what happened?”

Tim looked at Damian for a second before starting in.  “Well, we both thought you were crazy for wanting us to patrol together tonight.  We had a long talk before going out.  We discussed what would happen tonight, and contingency plans, if things didn’t work out.  Didn’t discuss this one, though.”

Damian spoke softly, “I agreed to follow his lead tonight.”

Bruce grimaced, “That’s not what I wanted.”

Damian finally looked up, shocked, “What?”

“I wanted you two to work together, as partners, not as leader and follower.”

Damian seemed to think about that while Tim continued.  “In order to have as little chance for a fight as possible, we agreed to drive just about the safest patrol route we could think of.”

“What happened,” Dick asked.

“Nothing.  It was a waste of gas.  I guess no one was in the mood to start anything tonight.  We ran across a mugging in progress.  The perp saw the car, dropped everything, and ran off.  It wasn’t even worth chasing him down.”  A smile drew itself across Tim’s face, “We pulled up outside of a convenience store, to get something to drink.  It was being robbed at the time.  The guy walked out of the store, saw the Batmobile, walked over to the trashcan, threw away his gun, put the bag of money down by the door, got on his knees, and put his hands on top of his head, just from seeing the car.  Damian cuffed him, and we waited for the police, but it wasn’t really necessary.  By the time the cops got there, the money had been returned to the register, and the criminal was sitting with us, leaning against the Batmobile, telling us how he was just trying to keep a roof over his family’s head.  The cops laughed about the whole thing, and the store clerk threw in a couple free Slurpees as a reward.”

Alfred returned with the bruise cream as Tim came to a bit of a pause.  “Master Damian, if you would please show me the bruises your Father is so concerned about.”

Damian stood and unbuttoned his pajama shirt numbly.  The material slipped from his shoulders, revealing a swath of purple doing its best to cover up the normal tan tone of the boy.  A round of sympathetic hisses and winces rose from his older brothers as Alfred began slathering salve on abused skin.

Jason said softly, “I thought you said nothing happened?  I want to hear about _that_.”

“I’m getting there,” Tim replied.

“His arms and his back, too, Alfred,” Bruce instructed.

When he had their attention again, Tim said, “About this time, we started getting a bit restless.  We agreed that playing it safe wasn’t doing anything but boring us, so we headed closer to the docks.  There is always something going on at the docks, and tonight didn’t disappoint.  We parked and swung around, just to work off some energy, when we heard a shot coming from the north.  We tracked it to a warehouse, where we…kind of…stumbled on a gang war.”

Bruce started, shocked, “What?  What do you mean, a gang war?”

“Well, it didn’t start out as a gang war, but it, sort of, turned into one.  I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of unrest among the northern Gotham gangs?” Bruce nodded, “Well, it’s true.  The Turks and the Troggs were all in this warehouse.  I don’t know if they were there to work something out, or just to fight.  Damian and I snuck into the warehouse to listen to what was going on.  Pretty soon, we found out.  I have no idea what started it, but after we had been watching for a couple minutes, everyone drew their guns and started shooting.  We got the best cover we could and agreed to use your method; let them thin their ranks out on their own before rushing in to see what is actually happening.  It worked for a bit, but the Turks, who were closer to us, started to get a sizable advantage.  I decided we needed to clear out and call in the police.  I told Damian to move…”

“…And I didn’t,” Damian interrupted, speaking for the first time since Tim’s recitation started.  He had resumed his seat and was buttoning his last two buttons when all eyes turned to him.  “I didn’t move when he told me to move, and we missed our safe window to leave the building.”

“What does that mean,” Bruce asked.

Tim sighed, “It’s my fault Bruce…”

“It’s _my_ fault, Drake,” Damian argued.

Tim continued, “I told him to move, and stood to move myself.  When Damian didn’t move, I was standing in clear view of the gang fight.  I dropped quickly, but we became the new target of both gangs.”

“I told you it was my fault.”

Ignoring his younger brother, Tim said, “They started shooting at us, and our cover was coming apart quickly.  I don’t know what got him to move this time, but the next time I told Damian to move, he did.”

Bruce nodded, “Okay, so you got out.  Where do bullet wounds and massive bruising come in?”

“Damian got out.  I made it two steps before I got hit and went down.  They surrounded me.  I…I don’t really remember how I got out after they started kicking me.  One minute they were there, the next minute, Damian is helping me into the car.  Damian?”

All eyes turned to the boy.  “Drake told me to get out, and don’t look back until I was in the car.  He said he would be right behind me, so I got out.  When I was almost to the car, I looked back.  Drake wasn’t there.  The shooting had stopped.  I waited a few more seconds, but when he didn’t come out of the building, I went back.”

Tim nodded, “There must have been a dozen of them kicking me, from all sides.  I don’t even know if they were all from one gang, or if both joined together to kick the crap out of me.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “There wasn’t a dozen of them, Drake.  It was only nine, and they all appeared to be from the Turks.  I went in and got him out.”

Jason’s eyes widened, “You faced off against nine armed Turks?”

“No.  There were nine that were kicking Drake.  There were more still in the warehouse.  I had to get their attention off of Drake, so I just…attacked.  I had to keep coming back to Drake, though, because after a while, the Turks found they liked kicking you more than being kicked by me.  I…I took far more hits than I should have allowed, in order to keep them more interested in me than you.”

Dick looked concerned.  “I know how your mind works, Damian.  You kept a running total in your head.  How many Turks are we talking about here?”

Damian looked around at the four men staring at him before mumbling, “Twenty-three.”

Stunned silence reigned in the cave for a full minute before Bruce said, “Twenty-three to one?  And you got out with just bruises?”

“Yes, Father.”

Jason looked impressed, which was surprising to the rest of the group, “Why?”

Damian looked at Tim, then back down at the floor.  “I couldn’t leave my brother in there.  Its…he’s my brother.”

Tim’s lower lip was shaking as he realized what had really happened tonight.  “Thank you, Damian.”

Bruce coughed lightly, “What happened next?”

Damian still stared at the floor as he said, “Once they were all down, I dragged Drake back to the car, called the police to come secure the warehouse, and drove him back here.  We were only here for a few minutes before you came in.”

Tim rejoined the story.  “I just remember coming to in the car.  I knew enough about what had happened before they started kicking me to put together a chain of events.  Damian spent the entire ride home apologizing for not moving the first time.  I tried telling him that me getting shot wasn’t his fault, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“Because it _is_ my fault, Drake.  Weren’t you listening to your own story?”

Bruce nodded as the story came to a close.  “So, you two survived a patrol together.  And the only argument to arise from said patrol is whether it’s Damian’s fault that the both of you are alive?”

“It’s my fault that he got shot, Father.”

“…And I suppose you will be expecting me to hand down some sort of punishment for your culpability in this evening’s events?”

Damian looked up, “Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen when one does something wrong?”

“Yes, Damian, it is.  Tell me, you didn’t move when Tim said move?”

“Correct, Father.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “And Tim got shot.”

Damian looked down, depressed, “Yes.”

“Tim stood up when you didn’t, therefore giving away not only your position, but the previously unknown fact that you were even there.  Did you stop to think that Tim getting shot is more of a result of that act than the act of you not moving?”

Damian looked up cautiously, “If I had moved when he stood up, it wouldn’t have mattered, because we both would have gotten out of the building before they could do any more than notice us leaving.”

Bruce nodded, “That may be true.  It may not.  We will never know, because we can’t know the outcome of things that _might_ have happened.  It is both of your fault that you both got injured tonight, just as it is both of your fault that you returned home alive.  You worked together, you looked out for each other, and I’m proud of both of you.”

Damian was looking down again, and Bruce chose to shift his line of inquiry.  “…But you won’t be satisfied until I pass down some sort of punishment to assuage the guilt you are feeling for Tim getting hurt tonight.  Am I right?”

Dick had to nudge Jason to keep him from laughing, which caused a wince from Tim when he jostled his leg.

Damian nodded slightly, “Yes, Father.”

“Very well.  Alfred, how many stitches did it take to close the hole in Tim’s leg?”

The butler spoke up, “Twelve, sir.  And it was holes, one on each side, with six stitches each.”

“Okay,” Bruce nodded.  “Damian, as punishment for your brother getting shot while on patrol with you, you will help him up the stairs, get him settled in bed, and make sure he is comfortable.  Furthermore, you are restricted from patrol.”

Damian’s head shot up at the last bit, but he bit his tongue to stop a remark, instead just saying, “Yes, Father.”

Bruce continued, “Yes, you are restricted from patrol for the next twelve hours, one hour for each stitch in Tim’s leg.  It is now,” Bruce checked his watch, “two in the morning.  Until two this afternoon, you are confined to your room, with the exception of meals, restroom breaks, helping your brother if he should need something, or if any of us require you for anything.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, Father.”  Damian’s tired mind was trying to come to terms with a punishment that wasn’t nearly as stiff as he had assumed it would be.

Bruce turned to Tim and said, “Tim, your punishment for getting shot on patrol is to have Damian assist you in anything you may need, for the next twelve hours, or more, if he’s willing to help you beyond that.  You are also restricted from patrol until your stitches come out.”

Tim smiled up at his adoptive father, “Yes, Father.” Dick snorted as Tim echoed Damian’s line.

Bruce smiled, “Can I assume that you bled all over my car?”

Tim shook his head, “It’s not that much.  Damian wrapped it while he was calling the police.  It didn’t hold for the whole trip, but it caught most of it.  At least it wasn’t the Ferrari.”

“Okay, I’ll check it out.  Off to bed, you two.”

Dick gently removed Tim’s leg from his knee and helped his younger brother stand up.  Damian shuffled over and accepted Tim’s arm around his shoulder.  He slipped an arm around Tim’s waist to steady the older man, and they both moved slowly off to the stairs.

Dick and Jason stood next to Bruce as they watched the younger residents of the manor walk away.  Dick said, “You’re getting soft in your old age, Bruce.”

“Look at them.  They aren’t fighting.  They aren’t arguing.  They’re both mostly in one piece.  If I have to clean up a couple blood stains, which weren’t the result of sibling rivalry, to get that, then I will do it gladly.  Say, you can find a few things for Damian to do tomorrow that won’t involve him sitting in his room and brooding, right?”

Dick nodded, “I think I can manage that.  Jason will help out, too.  Right, Jason?”

Jason crossed his arms, but softened the look with a soft smile.  “I guess so.  I mean, you used to do the same thing with me when I was grounded.  It’s only fair to pass it on to the next generation.”

Bruce shot Dick a look, “Dick?  What is he talking about?”

Dick backed away slowly, a nervous grin on his face, “Nothing, Bruce.  He’s talking about nothing.”

Bruce shook his head, “No wonder he always liked it when you came home for the weekends.”

Two stories above the elder residents of Stately Wayne Manor, the youngest resident was placing a pile of pillows under his elder’s perforated leg.

“Is that good, Drake?”

Tim winced as he shifted around to find a comfortable position.  “Yeah, that’s good.  Thanks, Damian.”  Tim didn’t want to ask for too much of his younger brother.  He knew Damian would look at it as taking advantage.  Even so, he did need one thing.  “Do me one quick favor, Damian.  I could really use a glass of water.”

The boy nodded and walked off to the bathroom to get one.  Returning, he handed the glass to Tim and helped him sit up to drink it.

After the cup was empty, Damian placed it on the nightstand and turned to leave the room.  He got to the door before Tim’s voice called out to him again.  “One last favor, I swear, then you can go to bed.”

Damian sighed, “What is it, Drake?”

“Sit down and talk to me for a minute?  Please?”

Damian turned to see the hopeful look on Tim’s face.  He walked back to the bed and sat, crossing his legs under him as he leaned his elbows on his knees and placed his chin in his palms.  “What do you want to talk about?”

“Did you mean what you said, down in the cave?”

Damian knew exactly what Tim was talking about, and was tired enough to get right to the point.  “Yes, Drake.  I was not about to leave you to be pummeled by a gang.”

“Because I was your partner for the night?”

“Because of the reason I made perfectly clear downstairs.  You’re my brother.  I’m the only one who is allowed to pummel you.”

Tim snorted a laugh, but was caught off guard by the smile wreathing Damian’s face.  He liked it.  The boy continued, “Besides, there are currently no dead Robins, and I plan on keeping it that way for a long time.”

They were silent for a minute before Tim asked, “Did you really take out twenty-three gangsters, just to get to me?”

Damian shrugged, “It’s not a record.  The completion time might be, but the number isn’t.  You…you get a lot of impossible situations like that…when training with the League of Assassins.  It not only helps you to hone your skills, it makes you realize that one misstep at the wrong time can cost you everything, like it almost did tonight.”

Tim took a deep breath and said, “I wouldn’t even begin to know what to do in a situation like that.  I guess it’s for the best that the situation wasn’t reversed tonight.  We might never have made it out of that warehouse.”

Damian looked appraisingly at Tim for a minute.  “I don’t know, Drake.  You strike me as being capable of more.”

“More what?”

Damian shrugged again, “At least more than you realize you’re capable of.  Maybe even more than me.  You have a strikingly analytical mind, for an idiot.”

Tim laughed.  “What are you saying, Damian?”

Damian blushed as he looked down at the bedding, “I’m saying, once your stitches come out, why don’t we see just what you’re capable of?  Then we can work on any…shortcomings.  Who knows, maybe you can even teach me something.”

Tim gave a full smile.  “I look forward to it.”

_Present Day…_

Bruce looked back and forth between Damian and Tim as their story wound to a halt.  “So, what you’re telling me, is that you two planned all this?”

Damian and Tim looked at each other before Damian said, “We were sparring, Father.  I didn’t want to hurt him, just show him that he can be more; be better.”

Bruce nodded, “Well, then I’m sorry, Damian.  You deserve the benefit of the doubt more often than I give it to you, even when it looks like you just tried to put your fist through Tim’s head.”

Dick came running into the locker room, panting slightly, “Did I miss it?”

“Miss what,” Bruce asked his eldest.

Dick sat down between Tim and Damian and threw an arm around the shoulders of each.  “The match of the century?  The Dami-nator versus Timbo Slice?”

Damian threw an incredulous look at Dick and muttered, “The Dami-nator?  What is wrong with you?”

Tim gave his older brother a look matching Damian’s, “How long did it take you to come up with Timbo Slice?”

Bruce was trying not to laugh, as he was just starting to understand what had happened today, and what he had interrupted, “You knew about this, Dick?”

“Of course.  Tim told me about it days ago.  I’ve never seen him so excited to spend time with Damian.  I just wish I could have been here to see it.  Did you learn anything, Tim?”

Tim smirked, “You have no idea.”

“So, what does this mean,” Bruce asked his sons.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tim replied, “I have a lot to learn.”

“I told you, Drake.  It’s not learning how to fight, it’s learning how to think.  I’ve been told you do that fairly well.  Don’t get bogged down in one train of thought.  Once the train jumps the tracks, then you start to see just how many options are open to you.”

Bruce smiled at the way his sons were getting along.  “Can I assume that this is going to continue?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Do you think you can go a little easier on him next time?”

Damian thought for a second, “…I suppose.  It’s hard to retain new information with a concussion.”

Bruce nodded, “Then I have just one last question.”

“Yes?”

“Is there room for more students in your little class?”

 

**A/N: I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, I just haven’t had enough to get it into its own story.  Also, like Lean on Me, this was meant to go into another story, but it just didn’t end up fitting there.**

**Timeline-wise, this story takes place at two different times.  The part where Tim gets shot on patrol takes place one week after the end of Intrigue.  The present day, Fight Club part, takes place one week later.  Tim is a fast healer; that is how he has his stitches out so quickly.  I mentioned a Fourth of July party in the story.  Before anyone asks, that is a story that will be in development soon.  We can expect to see some Damian and Robin cuteness all throughout that one.**

**PinkBat 7941, in a review for School of Wrong, called Tim ‘Timbo’.  The name stuck in my head, and I had to find a place to use it.  Without seeing that, I might never have come up with Timbo Slice, so thank you.**

**Slurpee, of course, is a trademark of 7-11 corporation, and I claim no ownership or stake in its trademark or usage, but they are tasty.**

**Thanks for playing along.  I look forward to hearing what you think about where my universe is going.  All views, likes, favorites, and reviews are gladly accepted with my heartfelt thanks.**

**Please note that this story was written two full months before the tragic death of Kimbo Slice.  I would never make fun of something like that, and the reference was meant as a homage, not a slight.**


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